Counterparts
by Everything's BIGGER in Texas
Summary: Royce King killed Rosalie. How does she handle living with men that bear such similar appearances? And what lengths do they go to in order to ensure that she can handle having them around? Mentions of assault/slightly OOC


**I'm not sure why I wrote this in the third person when I never usually do but it's what happened so don't get confused trying to figure out who's POV it is. This all began when I was having a conversation with OverzealousGuineapig—my Fanfiction smut **_**hero**_**, who was just that awesome that she thought she could fly and ended up with two broken bones and a concussion—and it turned to Eclipse Book vs. Eclipse Movie inaccuracies. **

**In the movie Royce was brunette and scruffy beard/moustache thing. Wrong.**

**In the book Royce was blonde and there was no mention of any facial hair. **

**So we began to wonder why something like this hadn't occurred when the resemblance was written to be so similar.**

**Dedicated to the crazy bitch that fell down her back steps taking washing to the line. Only you would be pissed about clothes getting dirty when your tibia was snapped in half then one of those halves was cracked **_**again**_**! I both question your sanity and hump your good leg, at the same time.**

_**Counterparts**_

"Rose?" Jasper came upstairs, drawn by soft whimpering noises.

"Yeah?" Rosalie replied, smoothing out the pained lines that had been contorting her impossibly beautiful face. The bedroom door opened slowly and her brother walked in, concern written into his otherwise smooth expression.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked.

His simple but affection filled question cut the cord holding the thin veil over her emotions and all at once he felt her heartbreak.

Since they had met all those many decades ago it had been a secret between Carlisle, Jasper, Rosalie and—of course—Edward that the reason she shied away from the blonde males in the family was due to their resemblance to Royce King. The blonde haired, blue eyed monster had allowed his friends and assisted himself in beating and raping the barely adult girl that was—then human—Rosalie Hale to death.

Alice, Bella, Esme, Nessie and even Emmett, didn't know and those who did had promised her that it would stay between the four of them.

It's not exactly the type of thing one would announce to their family.

Emmett would more than likely insist that they leave for Rosalie's mental health; and if she refused it would probably end with Alice and Esme finding some reason to leave—taking their blonde husbands with them.

Jasper and Carlisle understood though, her unwillingness to let a bad memory take away her family. They didn't want to lose her either, or leave themselves.

Carlisle received the worst reaction; like Royce, his hair was lighter than Rosalie's where as Jasper's was a few shades darker and tinged with brunette highlights. From certain angles Carlisle looked exactly like Royce, then with another inch of movement his likeness would change completely and he would appear as Carlisle Cullen once more. A force of unwavering compassion and kindness. Absolutely opposite to Rosalie's previous fiancé.

"Do you want me to go?" Jasper asked. Sometimes she wanted to be alone and other times she wanted someone there with her. Tonight she was after the latter.

"No," She waved him forward and patted the bed beside where she was lying in the foetal position. "Come lay with me, please."

There had been a time in his life when Jasper would have denied her, back when he was still under the impression that it was immoral. Years of killing humans and slaughtering those who were once his brothers had set a more defined line for _immoral behavior_.

He crawled in beside her and settled when they were face to face. His arm reached out and he hooked his hand around her body, tugging her willingly to his chest so he could surround her in love and comfort.

Rosalie's sadness and emotional pain vanished when he held her tightly in battle scar adorned arms. He was the perfect protector, and the perfect predator.

"Rose…" Jasper whispered, his tone requesting that she open her eyes.

She carefully looked up to his scar ravaged neck, then his face.

"Who am I?" he asked. Rarely, she would have flashbacks and confuse the present day men with the vague memory of her past demon. It would cause her to lash out at them, only to realize after a few punches who they really were.

"Jasper…" she murmured so he knew her mind was in the present day. She always felt horrible after she mistakenly attacked one of them, and even though it always made her feel stupid when asked to confirm their identities she didn't complain. Because there _were _times when she would say Royce.

He cupped a hand behind her head and pressed his lips—the same temperature as her skin—to her forehead. "That's right, darlin'," he whispered, breathing against her skin.

She curled her head forward to his chest, seeking comfort in his clean scent—not at all like the alcohol smell that had covered Royce and his friends. To her, this was a key point of definition.

That night on the street had been dark, she hadn't been able to see her attackers all the time.

But she could smell them.

Feel them groping and repeatedly tearing her.

Hear their sick laughter and encouragements when yet another took their _turn _with her.

Taste the repulsive flavor of their skin when one decided to violate her mouth as well—prompting the others to join in that _fun._

Her sight was the thing that received the least amount of torture that night.

But apart from his general appearance, nothing about Jasper tortured her.

He never smelled bad.

He never hurt her.

He never laughed at her pain and especially never took pleasure in it.

He had never forced anything onto her. And they both knew he never would.

So it became a battle of sight that waged between the few privy to the secret. One where they tried never to encompass any of the physical qualities of Royce Arthur King II, who thankfully never got the chance to harm another girl.

This mainly meant never staring at her eyes as Royce had when they where stunningly blue, or looking down their noses at her—like she wasn't worth a simple adjustment of their heads.

Royce was also the reason that it took her a full decade to allow anyone to call her anything but Rosalie—full name, full stop.

Eventually it had been Emmett that had finally told her that whether she was _My Rose _to Royce or not, he was not Royce and it was hardly fair to stop everyone from calling her that because of one horrid person.

She, of course, had agreed.

Stopping everyone else from calling her that merely made it more prominent that she was once his. When she was not now. She was Emmett's Rose and the same with her family.

However, the battle still continued between her life and her memories, but with such wonderful people behind her she was slowly winning.

Jasper cautiously started to remove his invisible blanket of calm off her, checking at each stage that she wasn't still miserable under it all. If he were to leave her and remove the false serenity he had over her at the same time it would be worse than she was to begin with.

So it happened slowly, like weaning someone off an oxygen tank.

During this process he caressed her back, and sweetly nuzzled and kissed her hair, replacing the synthetic emotions with real ones that were accompanied by real actions.

Rose slowly pulled back from the safe cocoon she was wrapped, but did not get off the bed. She smiled weakly at Jasper, reaching across the small space to grasp his hand as a way of keeping him close.

It wouldn't work though. The effects of his power were completely off her now and he had to leave this climate of erratic emotions before it consumed him. Every time he comforted her it brought with it a pain, an agony really.

He got up slowly, leaning over her to place one more kiss on the ivory skin of her forehead.

"I hope you feel better, I love you." he whispered to her. Then he left, quickly, before he lost control and she would feel how true his standard parting statement really was. A difficult truth is that you can't care about someone on that level and not love them. Not if you're being truly honest with yourself.

What he didn't already know was that there was a weakness in his control—one that let the honest, pure love he felt seep out to her. And just as unfortunately for the both of them, Rose was much better at hiding certain emotions than Jasper realized. Her completely requited love… And the total lack of true sadness that he thought she harbored towards her late fiancé.

The pain he mistook for melancholy sadness was really stemmed from the gold bands that they each had on their left ring fingers. Two circles of twenty-four carat gold stood between them… And about one hundred and ninety, and eighty-five pounds of Emmett and Alice that wore the matching counterparts to their wedding bands.

That's why she cried, and threw false fits, and often found herself curled up in pain.

That was the real reason behind why at least once a week they'd find themselves embracing each other when no one outside the secret was around.

Not Royce, John, Mark, or Victor, not even Spencer—who wasn't satisfied with raping her, he had to make a mess of the rest of her, too.

The thin ring on her hand with a meticulously engraved _My Angel Forever _was the unlikely culprit.

:~:~:~:

**Love it? Hate it? Jalapeño?**


End file.
